


To Live Without

by Cazio



Series: To Live Without [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Babies, Baby, F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Not really though, Thorki - Freeform, Thunderfrost - Freeform, Well - Freeform, but kinda, lokison, sort of mpreg, thorson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki returns to Asgard after almost two years on the run to see Thor one last time. Things have changed between them--Thor is king and Loki without magic. </p><p>But Loki does not arrive alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Live Without

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick oneshot after I got some crazy inspiration--excuse the terrible writing. ^^  
> There isn't any in-scene mpreg, if that kind of thing is what you wanted/didn't want.

            The palace was quiet as he walked through the corridors. A hooded cowl shaded his face, but he still held slight fear that the angle of his jawbone would alert the guards. The halls were darker than he remembered, swallowing him in shadow that was only broken by torchlight.  He shifted the bundle in his arms, though to anyone looking at him it would only appear that he was bulky in stature and round at the girth. His footsteps were near silent, but created plenty of noise to him—enough that he was sure the guards would come running to capture him and steal from him what he had brought.

            His magic had vanished shortly after his time in Vanaheim. Be it the king’s doing or something else, he did not know. Perhaps it was Odin, from realms away, casting a final spell to the bastard son. The traitor, the lying, tricking son. Loki dipped his head as a nobleman scurried by, the man more embarrassed to see him than Loki was nervous to be sighted. The sickly scent of woman’s perfume wafted from the man and Loki guessed that he was returning from a mistress. Regardless, the man did not question him and kept on.  Green eyes flickered beneath the shadow of his hood as he came to recognize the hall. He flexed his fingers slightly to make sure that the parchment was still there—Thor’s letter asking for him to return.

            It had been an exile of his own doing. After the events on Midgard, he knew that he was no longer welcome. Thor had saved him from imprisonment by convincing the council that he would not be trouble again, and Loki knew that such a pact would only last for so long.  He was the God of Mischief, after all. So he had fled to Vanaheim where Frigga had companions who took him in, unfazed by his previous wrongdoings. They taught him new spells and some of them became something close to friends. But things had changed since then. His magic was now gone and he had been forced to focus on other things—staying alive being the most important.

            Then came a letter, delivered to him by way of magic that could only have been his mother’s. Frigga was the only one he permitted himself to contact, and she knew of his life better than Thor ever had—well, his current life. There were only a few things she did not know, but Loki would never permit himself to tell her, none would know of those things.

Returning her letters was difficult without spells, but it only cost him a few copper pieces to have another sorcerer do it for him. He and his mother spoke in cryptic language, something they had used when she had taught him his first spells. That way none would know what was passed between them.

            He came to a stop in front of the door that he knew held his brother. Thor had tried to contact him for the past, well, it was nearing two years now--every day, according to Frigga. Loki owed him this, some kind of thanks for saving his life from prison. That way there would be no more debt between them and he would be able to go on with his new life, undeterred by thoughts of his brother. Without magic, he had accepted his worthlessness, and it was hard to hate someone who thought him worth anything. Even so, Thor did not know much, and certainly didn’t know his inability to use magic. It would only worry him, Frigga had said.  He pushed the door open, and stepped into the warm glow.

            Thor sat on the windowsill, leaned back and dozing with a backdrop of galaxies and worlds far away. Many worlds that Loki knew of that his brother did not.  Loki paused, but before he could speak Thor’s blue eyes flicked open. He sat up immediately, but did not jump to embrace him as he had done so often before. Thor was wiser now, a king.

            “Loki?”

            The once-trickster nodded, leaning back his head to allow the hood to slip to his shoulders. Thor beheld him as though he were a lost treasure that had magically appeared. If only.  Then the thunderer stood, and finally crossed to him with arms open wide. Loki ducked backward, shaking his head.

            “I have something to show you, brother,” he said, gaze flicking to his covered arms.

            Thor blinked, and seemingly remembered the purpose of his visit. “So you have brought—“

            “Indeed,” Loki nodded. He put the weight if his gift on one arm and used the other hand to pull the cowl from it. Thor’s eyes grew wide, his golden face accented by the orange hues of firelight. The Jotun lifted a flap of cloth to reveal the face of a sleeping babe, with skin as soft and smooth as milk. Loki’s first and only son. Thor grinned like a fool, stepping closer to examine the child in his arms.

            “He is beautiful, brother,” the king murmured, lowering his face to look closer. The babe shifted in Loki’s arms, unwilling to wake.

            “I know.” Loki’s eyes dimmed with something bittersweet. Two striking green eyes opened and the babe immediately blinked in surprise at the lionish face in front of him. Loki cradled him closer to assure his child that there was nothing to fear as the baby gazed in awe at the unfamiliar sight.

The room was quiet, filled with warm hues that reflected the essence of his once-home.  Everything was bright and healthy here, not cold and unforgiving like Jotuheim or pure and glimmering like Vanaheim. If Loki belonged here, then it would be where he wanted to raise his son, but such a life would be too painful and too many memories would resurface.

            “What have you named him?” Thor asked, beaming down at the child and extending a finger for him to grasp. Loki scoffed slightly and tugged the cloth that swaddled his son so that he could properly move his plump arms.

            “I have not yet thought of one,” Loki admitted in a low murmur. Thor looked up at him and furrowed his brow, then his face fell. Loki’s heart clenched.

            “What of his mother, Loki?” The thunderer cocked his head as he had so often done in their youth. The trickster ran his tongue along his lips once, then looked down at the child, dabbing his finger at his son’s nose. The babe giggled at the cool touch and swiped his tiny hand to wrap around Loki’s finger and give a tight squeeze. The Jotun could not help but smile softly. The child’s hand then grasped Thor’s outstretched finger, but his hand could not reach all the way around.  Thor chuckled softly, but in such a way that Loki knew he was still expecting an answer.

            “She was very frail after his birth.” His throat closed and he shut his eyes. The babe let out a delighted laugh as Loki swallowed thickly. When his eyes opened Thor was looking at him with that wretched sympathy he hated so much.  “Stop,” he hissed.

Thor’s brow only knitted in response. “Why did you not bring her here for the birth?”

Loki shook his head once; nostrils flaring to stop himself from tearing up like a fool. “I was in Vanaheim—who was I to think it would be unsafe? It did not matter anyhow. She knew that there would be difficulties.”

The babe discovered that his hands moved at his will and shoved a pudgy fist into his mouth to slobber on. Loki grinned, leaning his head down to place a kiss on the soft skin. The scent made his heart stir with love and he drew strength from it. His child let out a soft gurgle around his hand and Thor gave a booming chuckle.

“What of you, brother?” Loki asked, though he already knew.

Thor grinned proudly and the trickster’s calm expression faltered the slightest bit. Thor was king now. “Sif is with child.”

Loki smiled as best he could. Thor had a life now, without him. It was impossible to keep ties with the king of Asgard unless he was present in the realm. The Jane woman and her friends had discovered it after but a month of Midgardian time. In the near two years that Loki had been gone, Thor had received the crown and gained a wife.

“That is wonderful, Thor. I wish you the best.” His child squirmed in his arms—now that he was awake he did not like to stay in the same spot for very long. Loki’s arms had long since become used to the constant carrying of his child. With no wife and no home he was required to travel always, take shelter where he could, and live off of the coins that Frigga sent to him. How pathetic he was.

A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and Thor was suddenly embracing him. Loki flinched at the contact, prompting a wail from his child. The thunderer stepped away, unsure as to what to do. Loki smiled slightly at that, and tapped his finger gently against the child’s lips. A bubbly laugh filled the sitting room and Loki couldn’t help but grin, rubbing noses with the little being in a way he never would have thought himself to do just a year ago.

“She must have been beautiful,” Thor murmured, approaching him again--slowly. Loki knew he should not have flinched away, but contact had been rare in the past few months of his wanderings. He didn’t answer and instead began to gently rock his little son. A halfbreed. He supposed that it was better than full Jotun though, his child did not need magic to keep him in his form. Loki’s Aesir form was only visible in Asgard and his colleagues in Vanaheim had activated a spell there as well.  Otherwise he was a monster.

“Did you love her?”

The question was a dagger through his heart and he bit his lip to keep from gasping at the pain that threatened to bury him alive.  “Yes.” His clutched his child tighter as Thor took another step. A chubby hand reached up to tug at his collar and Loki murmured soothing words to try and lull the child to sleep before he became hungry.

“Loki, you are not leaving, are you?”

The trickster closed his eyes and sighed. “I must. It is not safe here, not for me or the child.”

“I will keep you safe, brother.” It was Thor’s turn to soothe and he placed an arm around Loki once more, guiding him to a door. “I have already arranged a room for you and a crib for him.”

Of course Thor would have done that. Frigga had let him, not doubt. He resisted at first and his brother paused in mid-step to look at him with those pleading sapphires he had never really been able to turn down. With a reluctant nod he followed his brother through the door into a massive bedchamber—one reserved for palace guests of the highest honor. He didn’t want to stay there.

“It is wonderful,” Loki lied, flashing the smile that Thor had always thought was genuine. This time was no different.

The bed sprawled out in front of him, covered in rich furs, silks, and the plumpest pillows in the nine realms. The crib was a half-covered dome adorned with gold and red—the crib for Thor’s coming child. Loki readjusted his grip around his son, suddenly feeling out of place. He was dressed like a peasant, smelled like one, and his son was wearing nothing beneath his swaddling cloth. He crossed to the crib without another word.

Countless times he had laid his child to sleep, but each time felt as though it might be the last. Creatures of the night could steal him from his powerless arms; merciless warriors could easily snatch him away and bash his head open as easily as stomping a summer melon. A lick of fear ran up his hands as he nestled the child in the furs, but the babe merely snuggled into the unusual warmth and closed his eyes.

His breath hitched in his throat and suddenly he was crying like a fool. Here he was, the used-to-be prince, staying in a guest room with his ratty clothes and nothing but his child to call his own. He hated crying, he had always been able to force his tear ducts to suck back what they had cursed him with. Not this time, not in this place that had once been his home but was now too warm, too safe, too welcoming.

He clutched the low railing of the crib until his knuckles went bloodless and the tears scalded his cheeks as they flowed. Then arms were turning him and he was in Thor’s arms. It was a safe place, one of warmth and comfort that he had always found there. It was not unfamiliar, just forgotten. He nuzzled into his brother’s chest, staining Thor’s royal robes with his wretched tears. But he cried silently, as not to wake the baby.

“Hush,” Thor soothed, cradling him close and swaying ever so slightly. “I’m here, brother. It will be all right. You are safe now.” But Loki knew he was not safe, that by morning he would be a realm away, hiding among the rocks in Muspelheim or courting death in Niffleheim. Wherever it was, it would not be on Asgard or Midgard. There was no safety anymore. He knew it wasn’t fair to the child, but how could he do what Laufey had done to him? It made his blood curdle just to think of abandoning the little round face he so adored.  Thor finally pulled away after his sobs became sniffles, and Loki cursed himself for coming here, for crying, for bringing his son.  Moonlight fought against the torches as his brother motioned to the bathroom.

“I’ve prepared a bath for you already.” A hand came to frame his cheek, a hand that was too warm, much warmer than he remembered. “What has happened to you?”

Loki smiled softly and tugged his brother to the bathroom with him in a silent way of saying he did not want to be alone. He lifted the grimy cowl off of his shoulders and the torn tunic underneath. Thor winced at the sight of his torso. His backside was littered with gouges and scars, some fresh, some months old. Down his front there were slashes where blades had gone deep into his chest and hacked at his stomach. More frightening to the thunderer was his frame, still thin, but without the muscle. Weak, frail, and pitiful were all words that came to mind. Loki slipped off his trousers to reveal more scarring.

“Loki, what are these?” Thor gasped out, reaching to touch. Loki sidestepped from him, and began to slide into the water that felt like molten lava seeping through the scars. The pain was unbearable, but better than a bath in a freezing river. So he stifled his whimpers. How soft he had become.

“They are markings. So that any who see me know what has happened to me.”

Thor snorted angrily, “Who did this? I will slay them, I will—“

“They have no care for an Asgardian king,” he murmured as he slid deeper into the water. His eyes flashed, “Is the child all right?”

Thor sighed, then glanced through the open bathroom door. “Yes, he is still asleep.”

Loki didn’t like not being able to see his child. What if something were hiding behind the drapes or underneath the bed? What if someone had followed him and was waiting for this exact moment? Thor sensed his unease and knelt against the side of the tub, brushing Loki’s disgusting black locks from his face. “Would you like me to watch the child or stay with you while you finish?”

“The child,” he answered immediately, though he wanted Thor to stay. The thunderer pressed a comforting kiss to his forehead and stood up to go outside, just like the loyal dog he was.  The door remained ajar, but Loki still felt completely alone in the palace. He dunked his head beneath the water and hurried to wash, grimacing as the sponge ran across his skin like sandpaper. He had to stop once when he reopened a wound, and bit into the sponge to stop from crying out.

Finally he finished and when he stood from the tub he turned to find Thor cradling the child. He quickly turned away again to grab a towel. Thor looked natural that way, loving and caring in a way Loki knew he could never be.

He found new clothes had been laid out for him as he walked out of the bathroom with the towel around his waist and his cowl and tunic in hand. Thor had brought him a pair of sleeping clothes, thick winter furs, daywear, and an elegant green and gold cloak sewn of dragonthread. He pretended that they weren’t there and began dressing in his filthy clothes again.

“Brother, please, accept my gifts,” the thunderer said softly. Loki swallowed, and grabbed the sleeping clothes. He would stay here one night and nothing more. The silk was light against his raw scarring, soothing his battered skin. He slipped into bed and was surprised to find Thor joining him with Loki’s child.  The trickster held out his arms and Thor gave him the babe, now wrapped in warm furs, his old swaddling cloth gone. Loki automatically turned on his side, snuggling the child against his chest.

“When is the child expected?” Loki asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. The babe curled his fingers in his sleep, and Loki moved the hand that wasn’t propping his head up to lovingly caress the round cheeks with his finger.

“A few months yet,” Thor rumbled gently. The king was looking at him with eyes full of pity and grief, as though Loki had died and was only a ghost visiting in a dream. A crisp fall wind blew outside and Loki tensed, waiting for the cold to wash over him. Of course, it didn’t, but it still took him a few moments to relax again.

“Sif will be blessed to have you, brother,” Loki murmured with a slight smile.

“Loki, please stay.” Thor knew he had been attempting to distract him. “If you do not wish to be seen I can not allow entry to these quarters, I can—“

“No, Thor. I will not be imprisoned here. If I were to be found, if the child were to be found, we would both be slain.”

“I am king,” Thor protested, “I will not allow it!”

“Shh!” Loki hissed, curving an arm around the child as if defending him from the noise. The Jotun sighed, shaking his head. “There may not be time. Should the child open his eyes everyone would know he is mine.”

“You underestimate my power, brother. I can protect you, our children can play together as we once did,” Thor rested a hand on his, and Loki slapped it away.

“I would never allow it. He will never be a secondborn, never a shadow,” Loki snarled, “He will be strong, brave, everything I never was. And never, never will he be seen by you or your offspring after this night.”

Thor’s eyes welled with tears that glistened particularly bright in the moonlight, likely tears he had been holding back since the beginning. “What have I done to cause this?”

“Everything, brother,” the trickster snapped.  He lowered his head to the pillow and snuggled closer to his son, pressing his lips to the crown of the child’s head. Thor gave a shaky breath, then pulled the covers over him and the babe. He didn’t dare reach for the child to place in the crib.

“I do still love you,” Thor whispered after a moment. The silence stretched until Loki could not keep it going any longer.

“Then you are a fool,” he murmured, inhaling the lovely scent of his beautiful child. His brave child, his child that would never lose a battle or ever deal with the pain of not being accepted or loved. Loki would always care for him more than Thor ever would care for his child with Sif. Always.

Thor leaned over, pressing   his lips to Loki’s temple as he had sometimes done in their youth, then pressed his lips to the child’s cheek. The babe gurgled quietly in his sleep and sighed contentedly. Loki pretended to have fallen asleep, but Thor knew he hadn’t.

“Will you come to breakfast tomorrow before you depart?”

“I suppose,” Loki lied sleepily, nuzzling against the edge of the pillow. Thor grinned and pulled the covers up a little more, leaning down one last time to kiss him on the cheek, and slipped from the bed, leaving Loki alone with his child.

 

* * *

 

Loki woke just before dawn, taking a moment to remember where he was. The child giggled delightedly to see him awake and Loki smiled fondly, placing a kiss on the baby’s forehead between the brows.  “Good morning,” he murmured as the child wiggled his arms about. Loki left him lying on the bed as he changed into the daywear Thor had left him. He snapped the cloak around his shoulders and pulled up the hood, checking himself in the mirror to make sure none of his scars showed through. Satisfied, he gathered the warmer clothes and tucked them beneath his arm.  He pulled off the pillowcases, using one as a sack to store his new belongings.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Loki whispered to the bundle that was chewing in his fist again. Loki slipped into the bathroom and took all the gold he could, from the soap dish to the towel hangars. He stuffed the towels in too, and returned to the bedchamber to stuff the furs from the crib into the pillowcase as well. All things he could use or sell for the betterment of his child. All of it was once his—not that he needed to justify stealing.

He finally returned to his son and scooped him up in his arms, tickling his nose and humming with joy as the child grasped his finger tightly. After a moment he tugged his finger away, kissing the baby another time. “Time to hide, my love,” he cooed, then gently covered the child with his cloak. The baby murmured softly, then snuggled into his chest. His son was used to being hidden, Loki thought with a lash of pain.

He crept through the halls, darting quietly around the corners to the back entrance of the palace to slip away. The hall opened to where Thor’s old chambers used to be; now empty and waiting for the new crown prince. Loki paused, then slipped inside the room. It was still drenched in rich reds and blues, untouched since the last time Thor had used it—though the bed had been made and the floors cleaned to a spotless shine. He uncovered his child and the baby blinked his emerald eyes, kicking excitedly beneath the swaddling cloth. Loki smiled softly and moved to the bed but did not sit down.

“This is a very special place, my love.” Loki looked to the ceiling where battles raged on gold metal plate. The baby let out a gasp, screeching fondly as Loki cradled him closer. “Yes,” Loki murmured softly, gazing down at his child. He pressed his lips to the tiny nose and two chubby hands clapped to his cheeks. The trickster laughed quietly and hoisted the child higher. “Come, we best be going. We wouldn’t want your father to come upon us again; else we might be made to keep our promises.”

Some things were better left untold.


End file.
